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There are various ways to
look for the unusual in classical music: seek out unknown composers, for
example, or search for little-known or overlooked works by the well-known. In
the latter approach, Richard Strauss’ Josephslegende
(1912-1914) is certainly a find, or rediscovery. One of the very few works of
Strauss’ maturity to remain rarely played and infrequently acknowledged, this
ballet based on the biblical legend of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife had little
success in its own time, initially running for only seven performances. The
problem probably traces back to Strauss himself, for he said when writing the
ballet that Joseph, a symbol of God-seeking chastity, was not a character to
his taste and “if a thing bores me I find it difficult to set it to music.”
This is the Joseph of the “coat of many colors,” sold into slavery by his
brothers, then becoming an adviser to the Pharaoh because of his skill in dream
interpretation. Joseph is plucked from prison to advise the Pharaoh – and Potiphar’s
wife is the reason for his being in prison in the first place: angered at his
refusal of her seduction, she falsely accuses him of rape, and her husband, the
captain of the palace guard, throws Joseph into confinement. Strauss’ ballet is
entirely about the attempted seduction and false accusation, not involving
Joseph’s later success at all. Neeme Järvi
and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra give it a bright, stirring
performance, as full of color as its instrumentation – which includes four
harps, organ, celeste, glockenspiel, xylophone, large and small cymbals, four
pairs of castanets, and a double-bass clarinet – would indicate. This recording
fills a gaping hole in the Strauss catalogue, but it has to be admitted that
the ballet is more workmanlike than truly stirring. The sumptuous orchestra is
there, the exotic sounds are present, and there are a number of intriguing
dances (four for women, four for Joseph, two for slave-girls, and so forth).
There is also a guardian angel to save Joseph, and there are predictable armed
men to respond to Potiphar’s wife’s false claim. But even when as well played
as it is here, Josephslegende sounds
like a piece in which Strauss was largely going through the motions – the
dashing creativity he brought to other biblical stories, certainly including
the earlier Salome (1905), is largely
absent here. Strauss fans will, and should, celebrate this recording, but in
truth, this ballet is something less than a must-have for most listeners. The
two short pieces that fill out the SACD are equally well played, and are
considerably earlier: Love Scene from
“Feuersnot” dates to 1900-01, and Festmarsch
is Strauss’ Op. 1 – dating to 1876, when the composer was 12 years old, but
already showing considerable maturity in writing for orchestra.

The exotica on a new Canary
Classics CD are more of the “unknown composers” type, and the disc is quite a
mixed bag, including three pieces from Schindler’s
List by John Williams (born 1932), the fairly well-known Baal Shem by Ernest Bloch (1880-1959),
and a series of pieces by composers with whose names few listeners are likely
to be familiar. The disc helpfully explains its title, noting that nigunim is the plural of a Hebrew word referring
to instrumental improvisations, sometimes secular and sometimes religious. That
is a pretty broad definition, and the pieces themselves convey a wide variety
of moods, too. There are two works here by Joseph Achron (1886-1943): Hebrew Melody and Two Hebrew Pieces; and one work apiece by Josef Bonime (1891-1959: Danse hébraïque);
Leo Zeitlin (1884-1930: Eli Zion,
transcribed by the same Joseph Achron whose own works appear here twice); and
Avner Dorman (born 1975: Nigunim—Violin
Sonata No. 3). Bloch’s work is the best-known one here (although perhaps
not for moviegoers, for whom the Williams will be most familiar), but the piece
that is most substantial, at least in terms of length, is Dorman’s. This is the
world première recording of
this nicely constructed sonata, which does have the feeling of improvisation in
places, if not throughout. The piece does not really have enough ideas to
sustain for 20 minutes, but it is well put together and makes interesting use
of the sonic contrast between violin and piano – with the brother-and-sister
team of Gil and Orli Shaham performing it feelingly, as indeed they play all
the pieces here. There is no music on the disc of real importance, but several
of the pieces do have an out-of-the-ordinary sound because of their melodies
and the way the music is developed, and the disc as a whole is a pleasant if
scarcely revelatory exploration of music with strong Hebrew roots.

Speaking of world première recordings, making them is certainly
a legitimate way to produce something out of the ordinary – by definition. The
new Dacapo CD of works by Knudåge
Riisager (1897-1974), labeled as Volume 2 of “The Symphonic Edition” of the
composer’s works, contains no fewer than five world première recordings: every piece here has
never been recorded before. Riisager, although not especially popular outside
Denmark, was a composer with a wide variety of interests, and one who worked
with skill in numerous forms. His one-movement Symphony No. 2 (1927) is quite
compact and shows fine command of the orchestra. His Symphony No. 3 (1935),
which he called Sinfonia even though
it is longer than his second and is in three movements, is an exceptionally
turbulent work, its movements labeled, respectively, Feroce, Violento e fantastico, and Tumultuoso – there is indeed very little respite to be found here. Concerto for Orchestra (1931) does not
give the orchestra the sort of workout that listeners have come to expect since
hearing Bartók’s later work
with the same title, but it is an effective suite with some good writing for
individual sections. Primavera—Concert
Overture (1934) is a short and pleasant enough work. And T-DOXC (poème mécanique)
for orchestra is unusual: a tribute to the then-new world of airplanes,
this 1926 piece will remind some listeners of Edgard Varèse in its frank celebration of mechanization and human ingenuity
in the creation of machines. There is a restlessness to Riisager’s music that
makes it hard to pin down to a single style, with his more-intense works (here,
Sinfonia and T-DOXC) tending to be more compelling than his emotive ones,
although the Aarhus Symphony Orchestra under Bo Holten plays all the works
idiomatically and with fine attention to detail. As a sampler of the composer’s
early-but-mature style, this CD offers those interested in Riisager’s music a
chance to hear just how varied his productions could be within a relatively
short period of time.